Soulbound
by Aldous Argyle
Summary: Hawke has spent the better part of the last two decades fighting to keep Anders safe. After struggling to secure a stable future for themselves, she is now faced with losing everything. Post DA2 First fic. Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

Mardessa willed her eyes to focus in the dimness of the room. Her vision, dulled from years of squinting at lock picks, struggled to focus on the small glass vials held in each hand. She marveled at how the lines in her hands creased as she poured the viscous colored liquids into a goblet of honey mead.

She felt old. Older then her years, but time had been cruel for nearly two decades. Turning her hands up, Mardessa studied the long thin scars across each palm and allowed her memory to drift briefly to happier times. Back in Kirkwall she had many titles; Sister, Refugee, Champion. But now, after so many years of fighting, running and hiding, she had a new title: Queen. She paused in her thought. How many years had it been? Ten…? Yes, ten years since she defeated the Paragon of Shadows' Guildmaster. Ten years since she had taken up his throne. It had been a risky move, even by her standards, but time was running out for both of them. Usurping the throne of the oldest thieves' guild in Thedas was the only way she could keep her love safe.

Bringing a mage among their ranks was difficult and delicate. Mardessa had to be cunning, trustworthy, and strong. As true a leader as she had been in Kirkwall. And she had been successful; uniting the lesser guilds in Thedas under her banner, the Paragon on Shadows became the largest and most powerful guild in history. But guilds were as old as the Imperium, and steeped in traditions beyond the comprehension of the Tevinters.

She remembered their Soul Binding as if it had happened yesterday. The beating of the drums shaking her bones as they descended into the deepest chamber of their fortress. Dessa saw uncertainty in his amber eyes as Anders balanced the knife delicately in his hands. She heard Tahl-Fvrens's voice burst into a crescendo over the murmurs of the other thieves as he performed the ancient ceremony. As Lore Keeper, it had been at his persistence that Mardessa had agreed to the binding. She took the knife from Anders and made quick, precise cuts across the fleshy part of each palm. His body didn't even register pain until the crimson streaks blossomed open. She lifted her eyes to his and passed the ceremonial dagger between their bodies.

Anders took the knife in his right hand and each of her hands in his left. His cuts were deep, messy, and afraid. Mardessa couldn't stop the hiss of pain that escaped her clenched teeth. Anders looked away, clumsily dropped the dagger on its alter and grasped her hands tightly in his. She felt tiny rivulets of blood run down her arms to her elbows before they dropped to the stone floor below. She turned her hands in his until they were palm to palm, cut to cut, blood to blood.

Tahl-Fvren spoke again in long Dwarven verses that Mardessa could barely understand, though she wasn't listening anyway. All she cared about was him; all her senses would register was the mage she was bound to. She inhaled deeply and could smell the lyrium on his skin. Her eyes traced the familiar angles of his face, the fullness of his lips, the warmth of his eyes as they peered back at her. Mardessa's heart swelled making her chest feel far too small. Maker, she loved him.

The ceremony was over quickly, and people had already begun to stream out of the chamber; up and towards the great room where there would be ale and feasting. Anders gently turned Mardessa's hands over in his and began closing the angry red wounds. She caught his lips for a brief, tender kiss. "Leave a scar." She whispered against the corner of his mouth. He quirked an eyebrow but nevertheless closed the wounds leaving behind a fine white scar on each palm. "I don't ever want to forget that you're a part of me now. And I'm a part of you."

Mardessa's eyes unfocused and she blinked a few times, surprised at the wetness on her cheeks. She scrubbed the tears off her skin fiercely and returned to the work at hand. She needed the mixture to be perfection - quick, painless, and permanent. It had all come down to this. "All this running and hiding and fighting has been for nothing" she thought bitterly. They had defeated every enemy they had encountered: Templars, dragons, blood mages, rival guilds, Grey Wardens, Seekers…none had been successful and Anders and Dessa had disappeared into the shadows permanently.

That is until the night terrors began.

Mardessa was accustomed to the nightmares that had plagued Anders' sleep for as long as she had shared a bed with him. At first, the new dreams were unremarkable in their duration and severity, nothing she hadn't witnessed a thousand times before. But these terrors were something she did not expect, and from the fear in his eyes and the tremors in his voice, Mardessa knew that Anders didn't either. That first night she could acutely hear the denial in his voice as Anders assured her that it was "Just another Warden dream". And she had almost believed him.


	2. Chapter 2

There was something so raw, so desperate about the way Anders thrashed about in their bed that when Mardessa woke up several nights later, she thought they were back in the Deep Roads. She pried his cold, clammy fingers from the bed sheets and smoothed his hair away from his damp forehead. His features twisted in pain and when he spoke again, his words were thickened not from slumber but from fear. Mardessa clamped her eyes shut at the words spilling from his lips and set about waking him as gently as possible. Straddling his hips, her hands roamed the planes of his face down to his shoulders where she shook Anders firmly, whispering endearments against the shell of his ear.

Mardessa was fluent in nearly every tongue in Thedas. Tahl-Fvren had advised her years ago that the foreign guilds would be more willing to accept and respect her if she took the time to respect and accept them. She had spent countless hours with language tutors from all over Thedas learning their dialects so she could better communicate with the other Guildmasters. Her tutor had been pleased to discover that, among her other less scrupulous talents, Mardessa was also quite proficient at languages, and only found a few to be exceptionally challenging.

One night as Dessa and Anders lay tangled and sweaty waiting for the night air to cool them after their lovemaking, he murmured promises of devotion against her hair in Anderfeln. For all the years that they had been together, it hadn't been until that moment that she had heard Anders speak in his native tongue. She had begun to think that Trade Tongue was all he knew; another ill effect from a stolen childhood in the Circle. Grinning against his chest, Mardessa answered him softly, willing her mouth to speak the clumsy words. The effect was powerful and immediate. Anders almost growled as he pulled her up for a hungry kiss, making appreciative noises in the back of his throat as he moved to cover his body with his once again. It had been a long, passionate night that lasted well into the morning; it was a memory Dessa kept close to her heart.

Pressing herself flush against his writhing body, Mardessa crossed her arms over his chest and threaded her fingers in the sweaty locks of golden hair that clung to his shoulders. Pressing her cheek against his, she murmured words of affection that were both forgotten and familiar to him. His forehead creased as Anders knit his brows together and made another keening plea to whatever or whoever was terrorizing his sleep to stop and get away from him.

Dessa shook his shoulders a little firmer and sat up to study his face in the sliver of moonlight that fell across their bed. She swallowed the lump in her throat and clamped her legs down tighter against his hips. "Anders?" His name came out more like a command than a question and Mardessa immediately sucked in a breath as if she could return the word with it. She tried again, softer but louder. He was talking faster now and his hands reached up to claw at his face and pull at his hair. Mardessa caught his hands and pressed them into his chest. "Anders? Lover?" His eyes cracked open but were unseeing, their usual bright amber distant, foggy and clouded by some unseen horror.

Fear coiled around Mardessa's heart like an icy fist. Panicked, she gripped the sides of Anders face and begged him to wake up, promised him in him every dialect she knew that she loved him and he was safe, and struggled to keep his thrashing form from tumbling out of the bed. His fingers dug painfully into her wrists as Anders continued to fight against his nightmare. Finally, his eyes snapped open as a desperate pleading wail erupted from his throat. In an instant, Mardessa was beneath him, shielding herself against the Spirit Bolt Anders had cast against his unknown assailant. As the spell fizzled out against the stone wall behind their massive Orleasian headboard, Anders blinked several times as if to clear away any spirits that may have followed him out from his dream. His eyes, now clear and bright in the moonlight focused on Mardessa's face and the sticky, bloody mess that used to be her right ear.


End file.
